The Cupid: a Collection of Love Songs

Priv. print. for subscribers only at the Moray Press, 1891 - 171 σελίδες

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Σελίδα 61 - Blest as th' immortal Gods is he, The Youth who fondly sits by thee, And hears and sees thee all the while, Softly speak and sweetly smile. 'Twas this bereav'd my Soul of Rest, And rais'd such Tumults in my Breast, For while I gaz'd, in Transport
Σελίδα 84 - why so mute ? Quit, quit for Shame this will not move, This cannot take her ; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her : The Devil take her. SONG
Σελίδα 98 - Pious Selinda goes to Pray'rs, If I but ask the Favour ; And yet the tender Fool's in Tears, When she believes I'll leave her. Would I were free from this Restraint, Or else had Hopes to win her ; Wou'd she could make of me a Saint, Or I of her a Sinner.
Σελίδα 56 - and Yew, And when she looks down on my Grave, Let her own that her Shepherd was true. Then to her new Love let her go, And deck her in golden Array, Be finest at every fine Show, And frolick it all the long Day : While Colin forgotten and gone, No more shall be talk'd
Σελίδα 54 - apt to wander, That my jealous Heart would break, Should we live one Day asunder. Melting Joys about her move, Killing Pleasures, wounding Blisses ; She can dress her Eyes in Love, And her Lips can arm with Kisses: Angels listen when she speaks ; She's my Delight, all Mankind's Wonder ; But my jealous Heart would break, Should we live one
Σελίδα 55 - in a Cottage on Love ? What tho' I have skill to complain, Tho' the Muses my Temples have crown'd? What tho' when they hear my soft Strain, The Virgins sit weeping around ? Ah Colin thy Hopes are in vain, Thy Pipe and thy Laurel resign, Thy Fair one inclines to a Swain, Whose
Σελίδα 42 - Lest herself fast she lay ; But if Love come, he will enter, And soon find out his Way. You may esteem him A Child in his Force ; Or you may deem him A Coward, which is worse : But if she, whom Love doth honour, Set a thousand Guards upon her.
Σελίδα 16 - of the Field, Nor Tweed gliding gently through those, Such Beauty and Pleasure does yield. The Warblers are heard in the Grove, The Linnet, the Lark, and the Thrush ; The Black-bird, and sweet cooing Dove, With Music enchant every Bush. Come let us go forth to the Mead,

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